Lovelorn Life
by chris400ad
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, has a secret that she had never told anyone. In the privacy of her own mind, she wonders if she will truly ever be able to move on from the greatest wizard she ever knew.


The most ardent defender of Albus Dumbledore was not, as many people believed, Harry Potter. The boy had questioned Albus, challenged him or even downright ignored him over the years. With good reason, of that there was no question. Yet, Albus' steadfast believer was the woman who now had taken over his job as Head of Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva had spent most of her adult life in his shadow, as a teacher and as a friend. She had followed him when others hadn't. She had been one of the first to found the Order with him, been there when it had risen again, and watched as it had threatened to crumble without him. If people were interested, which they weren't, they might have asked themselves why. Why such an excellent teacher, skilled witch and strong woman in her own right, would dedicate her life to following Albus Dumbledore. They might also ask why she would stay at Hogwarts, if they were so inclined, which of course they weren't. People asked questions about Potter, about his friends, nobody batted an eyelid about his teachers.

If they were to ask though, then the answer would be a simple one. The oldest answer for anything in the world. Love. Pure and simple. She had been in love with Albus from the moment that she had met him. She remembered it well, the night had been cold and the chatter had been loud and merry. She had just finished her training in Transfiguration. It was some function or other, of that she wasn't so sure. Minerva, however, did remember seeing him. He had been talking to a young man, Newt Scamander. The boy had seemed awkward and unsure of himself, drifting at the fringes of the room. Everyone wanted to talk to Albus yet he had chosen Newt for company. Made him smile and laugh. Later that night she and he found themselves together, sitting on tables and watching the rest of the room dance. Their conversation had been perfect, light where it was needed, serious when it wasn't. From then on Minerva had been in love with him.

Not that Minerva had realised this, she had thought it professional admiration, tried to convince herself that that was what it was. She had only been fooling herself. After that party she decided to teach, enrol at Hogwarts, and as the years had rolled by there was no denying it any longer.

It was the cruellest irony that life could bestow her. Loving a man that powerful, that kind, that incomparable. Nobody would ever live up to him. She had tried to meet other men, wished that she could, but they were all dull. It was like wading through a sea of grey disinterest, only to find that what lay at the end of her path was even more boring that she had first imagined.

And yet, he could never love her. Many didn't know, never even dreamed of the truth of his relationship with Grindelwald. It was much more convenient for people to believe they were 'friends'. That Gellert had corrupted Albus, and that the two had been close but nothing more. The truth was glaringly obvious for anyone that wanted to see it. Why else would Albus hold off fighting him for so long? Love. He loved a monster and he knew it. Facing that truth must have been harder than anything else for Albus, just as Minerva had refused to believed she loved him.

Minerva wished that she had been able to help him, but true to form Albus had locked the pain away and thrown on a twinkly eyed smile. Being the one to bring Gellert in had crushed Albus, just as his past haunted him. It was part of why Minerva respected him so much. Albus had spent his life undoing that mistake, devoted every fibre of his being to righting his wrong. Even when he had died, Minerva doubted that he had truly come to terms with it.

It had been three long years since he had died. Two since Voldemort had fallen and she had taken charge of the school. Every day she wondered if she lived up his legacy. If in years to come people would speak about her with the same adoration. She doubted it, but that didn't mean she should leave Hogwarts in the hands of someone who wouldn't understand what Albus had tried to build.

The school still felt haunted, however, every time she walked down a corridor she expected to see him there. Her office never truly felt like her own, though she hadn't helped herself. The vestiges of his tenure remained, a spectre she was unable to shift. Minerva had tried to force herself to get rid of them, but she had never managed it. Ever banishment charm was countered with a summoning one. It was a vicious cycle doomed never to be broken.

These thoughts walked with her more and more as the terms neared its close, as they always did at the anniversary of his death. Most remembered it for the battle of Hogwarts, students and adults alike would flock to the monument and leave flowers and letters. Dumbledore's tomb stood overlooked, a memory that people liked to forget. No thanks to Rita Skeeter. Bitch. A word Minerva reserved purely for the privacy of her own thoughts.

There were still a few that visited. Potter, Granger, most of the Weasleys, and the teachers that had known him of course. They still missed him, of course they did. He had been like a father to Potter. Yet each of them, year on year, gave that little bit less emotion. It wasn't that they didn't care, it was just that they were learning to deal with Dumbledore being gone. Even Potter, who came up in secret so as not to be mobbed by crowds, looked less sombre. His eyes had more life, his smile ever so slightly more genuine. Even he had managed to leave Hogwarts behind, leave Dumbledore behind, even Minerva.

As with everything people had moved on, so why couldn't she?

 **AN: For our biweekly prompt, the challenge was to write for Minerva McGonagall and this is what I came up with. Hope you enjoy.**


End file.
